


The Importance of the Trenchcoat

by babybluecas



Series: and so you fell [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel's Trenchcoat, M/M, One Shot, Post Season 8, Pre-Slash, Shopping, fallen!cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-14
Updated: 2013-09-14
Packaged: 2017-12-26 12:29:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/965929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babybluecas/pseuds/babybluecas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The fate of the missing trenchcoat can't leave Dean's mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Importance of the Trenchcoat

Dean isn’t a sentimental kind of guy. At least  _ officially _ he isn’t. So if someone was to ever ask: he just appreciates the emotional value of some material objects. After all, having spent most of his life in a car, surrounded by the few things he owned, he can’t be blamed for getting emotionally attached to them.

There aren’t very many of those things. Some of them got lost during the apocalypse and he might have even drunk a glass – or a bottle – of whisky to one of them. Most of the remaining stuff easily fit into his room. And then, there’s Baby, but she’s a fine car, so no one could hold her against him. Same goes for the weapons he likes more than the rest, but they don’t really matter all that much.

And once there was a thing more important than others and it didn’t even belong to him. Yet he carried it around like a fucking sap and held on to it with his life. When everything seemed too dull to snap him out of the numbness, one peak at the beige trench in some junk car’s trunk was like a gun shot through his brain. For a few months, it was everything.

And now it was gone for good.

He never asked about it and Cas didn't mention it either. It was just a coat after all. But still, from the moment Dean saw Cas standing in that door, looking so wrong in a blue, ragged jacket and with no sign of having other belongings on him, the fate of that stupid trenchcoat hasn’t left Dean's mind.

Dean’s aware that asking doesn’t serve any purpose anyway because it would just be crying over spilled milk. Cas probably didn’t have a second thought ditching it in a dumpster.

So when the perfect opportunity finally comes, he doesn’t dare to make a fuss.

It happens while they shop for a new coat for Cas. Dark and classic, ideal for impersonating an FBI agent or whoever the hell his future hunts would require. Given the taste for clothes the former angel started quickly developing, he definitely needed a style advisor in form of a Winchester and, of course, it had to be Dean.

“Cas-” he starts, while Cas tries on a black pea coat, and has a problem with uttering any words once Cas turns to him, doing up the last button.

“I think I like this one,” Cas says, gazing at Dean and awaiting his opinion.

At first, Dean doesn’t dare to speak, not trusting his voice. Hoping that the moment feels this prolonged only in his head, he clears his throat.

“Yeah, uh-“ He’s certain by now Cas noted his hesitation and didn’t miss the flip of Dean’s tongue, while his eyes slid up and down over perfectly fit coat. “Awesome,” he mumbles, finally.

Cas’s face lights up. Whether it’s because of Dean’s approval of the coat or because of his astonishment is unsure.

“But I think it might not be warm enough for the winter.”

“Don’t worry about the winter, Cas. Is it warm enough for now?”

“Yes. It’s significantly warmer than my old coat. Luckily, because I wouldn’t fit too many layers under this one.”

At that Dean chuckles, but he doesn’t miss the opportunity, as he watches Cas take the coat off.

“Yeah. By the way, what happened to your old coat?”

At that Cas’s face visibly falls, as he turns his eyes to the floor. And it’s not what Dean expected. A simple, matter-of-factly “I threw it away” or something along that line, but not a bashful apology.

“It- uh,” he starts, muttering, while he distracts himself with a pair of leather gloves he picked up from the shelf. “I couldn’t wash off the blood stains, so I threw it away. I needed to get rid of it anyway, it was too characteristic. It was easier to hide from the angels without it.”

“Yeah, right. That’s obvious,” Dean agrees, because that, of course, makes a lot of sense. He’s ready to drop the subject, with his mind quickly skipping to the mental image of the gloves Cas holds added into his new coat and he really, really likes that image. “You should take these too.”

Apparently for Cas the conversation isn’t over. Probably because he knows how big of a sap Dean is. Or maybe because he’s just as sentimental as Dean is and maybe he kinda sorta liked that coat too.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, moving across the almost empty store to get to the checkout.

“What? Why?” Dean’s confused. Since when does he have to be sorry for taking precautions?

“I know it meant a lot to you,” Cas explains and he doesn’t even lower his voice as he adds: “When I was gone, you-“

“Shut up Cas,” Dean quickly cuts him off, before he can finish.

He doesn’t need to be reminded of it. He remembers very well, every time that he picked the coat up from the trunk and moved it to another stolen car that wasn’t Baby. He remembers fishing it out of that lake and folding it, cradling like the most precious thing. He remembers how much it had all been worth, when he finally found the angel and handed it to him. But that was then and he gets it now: almost three years later, the coat doesn’t mean a damn thing.

“What the fuck are you even talking about?” he goes on. “You still don’t get it, do you? Man, you were dead back then. Cas.” Cas stops as Dean’s hand lands on his shoulder. “Hey, Cas, come on.”

Dean’s features soften as he looks at Cas. If he has to say it again, he has to do it right and maybe Cas will finally get it without Dean spelling it out for him. Their faces are inches away and Dean’s palm, still laying on his arm, itches to cup Cas’s face, but he squeezes his shoulder tenderly, instead.

“Cas, I’d rather have you, than that stupid coat.”

And Cas gets it, at least for now. He just smiles with that look in his eyes, like he’s staring at a fucking miracle and nods.

“Geez, you’re an idiot sometimes, Cas.” Dean laughs, feeling the atmosphere relax instantly. “Besides,” he adds, grabbing a green-and-blue, striped scarf and wrapping it around Cas’s neck, “You look much better in the new one.”

  
  



End file.
